Please pass the potassium; I'm hungry
For a hard bolus of liquid bliss
To burn my heart, yearning
For a kindly scrub-clad mercy, for a coda
With beeping machines in counterpoint
To the slither of blood-soaked sheets;
To the rattling, desperate breaths
To the orgasmic throbbing heartbeat
And final flutter of drumming feet..
O beautiful nurse, please take pity
And kill me like my mother would
Whisper it won't hurt as you press
The plunger down down down
To the bottom of the tube,
To the end of sense,
To the bottom of love-:
Stroke my hair and tell me
It will all be over soon.
It is hard to like so dark a poem. It is well written but chilling to read. I usually quit reading anything suicidal but this comes under the 'mercy killing' heading and so I finished it. Then I cried. I do hope this isn't about you. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Raynette: It's only about me in a limited sense; I'm not in a hospital or suffering an incurable disease. And 'chilling' was precisely the effect I intended.